Eric Yorkie, The Van Helsing of Forks

Summary:
Vampires have come to Forks, and only one person can possibly stop them. That would be me. I am Eric Yorkie, the Van Helsing of Forks. The True Adventures of a Vampire Hunter. A Twilight AU
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Notes:
I don't own Twilight.

3. Chapter 3 Where I Gather Information

Vampires are nothing if not deceitful. They can be incredibly adept at covering their kills. Use all possible modes of research available when hunting vampires, even pumping the local populace for information on their habits. – From The Diary of a Vampire Hunter by Eric Yorkie

(*)(*)(*)

Obviously, I am dealing with an unusual breed of vampire. Garlic, nope. Holy water, also ineffective. I have seen possibly every vampire movie there is−hell, I even sat through Dead and Loving It, and that was just painful−but movies are, after all, a Hollywood product. There must be some truth in them, though, right? But how much and what? It is time to do some research.

There are sixteen million results for 'vampire' when I google it. Results start to narrow down when I switch to 'vampire hunters'. Did you know there is an actual Federal Agency of Vampires and Zombies? I couldn't believe it. As if zombies are real.

I finally hit the mother lode with a site called Vampire Hunters, Inc. I click the "Contact Us" button and tell them about the coven living in Forks. Several hours later I get a reply. They are based out of Los Angeles and promise to come help me, but they want a down payment of two thousand dollars. Yeah, like that's gonna happen. Another hour goes by, and they email me again; now they'll take a thousand as a down payment. Still too high, though. I wonder if my parents would let me raid my college fund. I mean, unless we deal with the vampires in town, there may be no college in my future−there may be no future at all for me. I know their secret and who knows if they'll come gunning for me?

I keep reading though, and I get some good ideas. It says you can often figure out there are vampires in town by looking for their victims. If I can find a corpse that's been sucked dry, it would go a long way toward proving my accusations. But when I check the newspaper records for Forks, other than traffic accidents, the last murder was in 1997, and that was domestic violence. Anything more recent I would know about since my dad runs the funeral home, and I help him out quite a bit. He says that if I'm so curious, then I should come learn about it. I'm not curious−really, I'm not−he just thinks so because of the time me and Mike Newton got caught in the mortuary's basement.

Last year, Miss Clallam County had the misfortune of getting strangled right in the middle of the Labor Day parade. Somehow her sash got caught in the mechanical tail of the giant beaver behind her on the float, and it slipped around her neck. The crowd thought she was just waving vigorously until she passed out, and by then it was too late.

When Mike learned we had the body, he begged me to sneak him into the basement of the mortuary, where we prepped the deceased for burial. ""This is a golden opportunity to check out a real beauty queen," he pleaded. "You have to get me in there."

"Forget it. My dad would kill me if we got caught, and Jesus, have some respect for the dead."

When I refused, he started with blackmail. "Do it or I'll tell everyone how you wept like a baby during the ending of Air Bud."

"You wouldn't."

"I wouldn't even think of it if you would just get me in there." He fell to his knees. "I'm begging you, my best friend, begging you."

In the face of that, I was helpless. So, that night I took my dad's key ring and rode my bike to meet Mike at the funeral home.

We entered the basement through the outside door. Our footsteps echoed in the sterile concrete and tile room. "Can you put on some lights?" Mike whispered.

I found the light switch on the wall, and we spent the next few seconds letting our eyes adjust to the flood of fluorescent light. There were just a couple of steel tables, some cabinets and lockers. "Where is she?" Mike asked, his eyes round.

I went over to the cooler and opened the middle drawer. The sheet stirred over the body slightly, and Mike slowly approached. "Is she naked?" he asked.

"Go ahead and check," I told him.

He sniffed, his face grimacing at the smell. Slowly he lifted the corner of the sheet, revealing the dry, withered face. "Oh my god," he said in disgust. "What happened to her?"

I glanced behind the sheet. "Oops, that's Mrs. Keith." I pushed the drawer back in and pulled out the bottom one. "This should be her."

He looked at me like he wasn't sure he believed me and tentatively raised the sheet. "Wow, that's her," he said, almost in awe.

Despite the deep bruising on her neck, I could see the beauty that should have been there. Mike started to raise the sheet higher when I heard footsteps on the stairs. It could only be one person.

"Shit! It's my father!" I hissed as Mike dropped the corner of the sheet and we exchanged a panicked look.

"What-where?" Our gaze flitted around the room, looking for a hiding place.

I nodded to the drawer where Miss Clallam County lay. "Get in," I whispered. I could–maybe−explain my presence here, but Mike's? Never.

"You've got to be shitting me." I'd never seen Mike look so grossed out.

"Just do it!" I pushed him into the drawer where he laid on top of Miss Clallam County. His face was a study in fascinated horror as I rolled the drawer back in.

My father appeared around the corner. "Eric! What are you doing here?"

"I thought I left my history book here." For an off-the-cuff excuse, I thought that was pretty good.

"No, it's not here. If I'd seen it, I would have brought it home."

"Uh, okay. Guess I'll just head back home." I nonchalantly went for the exit.

"Do you want a ride?" my father asked.

"Uh, no. That's okay. I rode my b−" I was interrupted by a sneeze coming from the drawer behind me.

My father looked at me and then the drawer. "What the…?" He strode across the room and pulled it open.

Mike was splayed out all over Miss Clallam County's sheet like a roadkill frog. "Oh, hi, Mr. Yorkie," he said, exactly as if he'd seen my dad in the grocery store and not from a cold storage body drawer.

"Hello, Mike," my father said, giving me the slow burn look that let me know the shit I was in was truly neck deep. Needless to say, he had to let Mike go with a stern warning and a ban on ever stepping foot inside the building again. I, however, had to start working at the mortuary on Sundays until I learned some 'sensitivity to for the departed.'

Anyway, people are dying all the time but not for anything mysterious. I wonder if I should start giving all the bodies that come through the funeral home an intensive bite mark check. Like maybe the Cullens are sucking them dry and hiding the victims' bite marks in weird places, like between their toes or under their arms or something. Or hell, even the groin area, there's a big vein around there, isn't there? I wonder if Rosalie likes male victims, and if she hides her bite marks in the groin area. There is some knowledge that may be worth dying for. I'll give that particular thought more consideration tonight when I shower.

Anyway, when Saturday comes, I'm pumped. A bunch of us are going to First Beach, out by La Push. We all cram into Mike's father's Suburban, and soon we're on the beach. When a bunch of people, Bella included, decide to go visit the tidal pools, I stick around with Tyler, Lauren, and Samantha because I am pretty sure Samantha is mooning over me. It's not too long before a bunch of Quileutes show up. They have some killer weed, so we ask them to stick around. We even feed them lunch. Hell, for weed this good, I'd feed them my sister.

I'm leaning against the driftwood we're using as seats when Lauren starts talking about Bella to Samantha. "For a new girl, she's awful pushy." Lauren is so cold, she gives bitches a bad name.

Samantha passes me the joint but answers Lauren. "What do you mean?" Samantha is short and a bit hefty. I like girls like that; it usually means they have bigger tits. However, it also means she's about twenty pounds too big for Lauren to consider her as a best friend.

"She's been crushing on Edward Cullen. She was even going to ask him to come with us today." Lauren rolls her eyes like she can't believe Bella would do something so uncool.

Colin, one of the Quileutes, speaks up. "Edward Cullen, here? I don't think so." He looks around at the rest of his boys, and they all kind of guffaw. "No way, man."

"Why not? What do you mean?" I ask, trying to hold my breath in as I pass the joint on to Brady.

"Those people are freaks," Brady says.

"No shit," Colin adds. "You should hear the shit they talk about them at the council. You'd think that−"

Sam, the biggest Quileute, comes up to the circle. "Colin, that's enough." Colin shuts up immediately with a look like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

Samantha jumps up. "Oh, god. They are freaks. I didn't tell you." She turns excitedly to Lauren. "I walked in on Rosalie Hale after gym yesterday."

"Yeah, so?" Lauren tosses her hair behind her shoulder.

"She doesn't shave! Like anywhere!" Samantha giggles from behind her hands. "I haven't seen that much hair on a girl since I went to the beach with my grandmother."

"Ewwww." Lauren always acts like so she's grossed out. I remember in kindergarten she used to pick her nose like she was digging for diamonds up there.

I just sit there, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that Samantha walked in on Rosalie Hale when she was naked. I could spend my whole life trying to get a glimpse of that, and Samantha just happens to walk into the showers. It's really not fair. I swear to God, if I was a girl, I would be absolutely useless because I would spend all my time just playing with my tits.

"Really." It's obvious Samantha is enjoying Lauren's attention. Lauren is like the queen Mean Girl in our school; sycophants are constantly throwing themselves at her feet. "And then there's Alice."

"What about Alice?" Tyler asks.

Samantha sticks her finger in her cheek and twirls it. "She's just so damn perky."

"Tell me about it," Lauren says grumpily and takes the joint from another of the Quileutes. "Sometimes I just want to bitchslap her."

"Do you know one time she came up and threatened me?" Samantha asks, her eyes round.

"Alice? Little Alice?" Tyler asks.

"Yeah. I'd been thinking about asking Jasper to the Sadie Hawkins dance. And−"

Lauren makes a face. "You were gonna ask Jasper to the dance?"

"I was just thinking about it," Samantha admits a bit shamefacedly. "Come on," she says to Lauren's sour face. "Even you have to admit, he's kinda hot."

"He's no such thing!" Lauren protests. "All that, 'Yes, Ma'am', and 'Whatever you say, darling." Lauren drawls it out in an exaggerated Southern accent. "Jesus Christ, he sounds like a cross between trailer trash and Slingblade."

That sets the guys laughing, but Samantha pushes on. "Well, anyway, the point is I was going to ask him, but before I could even talk to him, Alice shows up in my face and says if I even go near him, she'll cut up all my credit cards and then have me committed."

I've had about enough of this. The girls can play 'Let's Trash Anyone Who's Not Here', but this isn't my favorite game, and it's obvious I'm not going to get any useful information. Luckily, the tidal group people show back up. Introductions are made, and more food is passed.

I take the last swig of my soda and stretch. "I think I'm gonna get my board and try the waves."

"Listen," I say to him as we head to the parking lot. "What did you mean back there?"

"What? Oh, you mean about the Cullens?" he asks, tucking his long hair behind his ear.

"Yeah. I bet you guys know all kinds of stuff." Maybe if I flatter him, I can get him to talk. People love to think they know shit that nobody else does. And they love to let other people know it even more.

"We're not supposed to say." He looks around and back at the campfire where everyone else is gathered. "Let's just say the Cullens are freakier than you ever imagined."

I lean my head in closer. "Like how?"

He lowers his voice. "Well, you've seen them, right? They're all pale and cold looking? And they say they're all foster kids?"

My heart starts beating fast. This could be the confirmation I need. Surely the Quileutes would know something. "Yeah?"

Colin glances around us once more. "One time, at the drugstore in town, I was watching Emmett and Rosalie from across the parking lot in my car." He drops his voice even further. "They kissed each other. On the lips." He's almost snickering now. "With tongue."

Talk about yesterday's headline. But I can't let this opportunity pass me up, so I press him. "Yeah, but what about them being vampires?"

"Vampires?" He looks at me, his black eyes all round.

"Yeah." Come on, spill.

He looks me deep in the eyes for a moment. Then he throws back his head, laughing hysterically. "Vampires? HAHAHA! Vampires!"

Now I don't know whether to start laughing with him, like I just made a joke, or try to stand my ground. In the end, I laugh half-heartedly.

"Oh, man, that's funny." Colin claps a hand on my shoulder when he catches his breath. "I think there's more cocksucking than bloodsucking going on in that family."

"Yeah, haha," I say.

On our way back to the campfire with my board under my arm, I see Bella and one of the Quileutes−I think they said his name is Jacob or Joseph, something like that−taking off down the beach. She's leaning in real close. Bella must have the worst taste in men, like ever.

The wind has picked up, and it's gotten colder, so I cancel the surfing idea. I didn't bring my wet suit anyway, and no one else is braving the water. The clouds move in, and we decide to pack it up. Mike and I kick sand over the fire pit, and as I'm carrying a cooler back to the car, I walk up next to Bella who has an armload of blankets.

"So, did you have fun?"

She smiles shyly from behind her hair that's fallen across her face. "Yeah, it was good."

"I saw you and Jacob talking. Looked pretty intense."

"Um, yeah. He was telling me about some of the old stories from the tribe." I bet he wasn't telling her about vampires. The Quileutes seem pretty clueless in that respect. "And we talked about my truck. My dad bought it from his dad."

"How's it feel driving a truck older than you are?"

"Hey, I just treat her with respect. She deserves it." She smiles at me again. Maybe she really does have to go to Seattle next weekend. I think she wants me.